


Rainbow Falling

by Anonymous



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In a world where everyone is colorblind till they meet their soulmates, Myungjun can see color, but he still doesn't have a soulmate. Dongmin loves Myungjun anyway.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	Rainbow Falling

**Author's Note:**

> For Llylee2 on Twitter. Happy Birthday!

Dongmin stared at his textbook. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?” He squinted at the molecular diagram above the review questions, then skimmed the text above it. “I’m not quite understanding the questions.” 

Opposite him, Myungjun hummed thoughtfully. They were huddled in their usual corner in the student commons where they studied together. Even though the more diligent students had reserved carrels in the library, both Dongmin and Myungjun liked to listen to music and eat and drink while they studied, and since food and drink weren’t permitted in the library, they were stuck in the student union and subject to the whims of fate and whichever tables were free when they were finished with lectures for the day and able to have their own little study group.

“It’s pretty simple,” Myungjun said. “As long as you can spot the carboxyl group, everything is self-explanatory from there.”

Dongmin studied the molecular diagram again. “How can you tell which part is the carboxyl group?” The diagram was a fancy 3D model, not the usual 2D diagram he was used to, because this chapter was focused on molecular chirality, not just whether bonds were single or double.

Myungjun leaned in and peered at Dongmin’s textbook. “Ah. Swap textbooks with me,” he said.

Dongmin frowned. “Why?”

“Your textbook is in color,” Myungjun said gently, and switched their textbooks with deft hands.

“Oh.” Dongmin sat back, sighed.

Myungjun’s textbook was identical to Dongmin’s, except any diagram that had colors was also marked with symbols and a key, so he’d know which color each symbol represented. Triangle was blue, square was red, circle was green. Now that Dongmin could see the the color key, he could look at the molecular diagram and identify the carboxyl group and answer the review questions easily, but —

Blue. Red. Green.

Those were meaningless to him.

Just words.

Dongmin knew, intellectually, that the sky was blue and blood was red and the grass was green, but to him, the world was shades of grey, because he hadn’t met his soulmate yet.

When he met his soulmate, the mythical love of his life, his world would explode in a riot of color, and his life and entire existence would be more beautiful, but until then, his life was colorless and drab.

But then there was Myungjun, his best friend who he’d met his first day on campus, who could see color but had no soulmate.

“There are quirks in every system, I suppose,” Myungjun had said, when Dongmin asked him that first day. “I only started seeing color today, but no one else has started seeing color, so. There you go. Not everyone has a soulmate, I guess.”

Dongmin figured he might be one of those people, too, who didn’t have a soulmate. After all, there was a reason textbooks at their level didn’t all have colorblind keys, because people were assumed to have found their soulmates by then, to be able to see color.

“Hey, it’s Shabang Shabang, turn it up,” Myungjun said.

Dongmin obliged him and turned the song up on his phone. They’d built a combined study playlist of pop, classical, and trot. Myungjun hummed along, sang along to the chorus, dancing in his chair and smiling to himself while he wrote answers to the review questions in his notebook.

Dongmin watched him and smiled. When Myungjun smiled, it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a stormy day. His voice was honey-sweet, beautiful, and Dongmin loved listening to him sing. Myungjun’s energy was infectious, and Dongmin sat up straighter, focused on his review questions more closely.

He reached into his backpack for a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and tore it open, dug out a handful. He held them out to Myungjun first.

Myungjun made a little wordless questioning noise and leaned in, so of course Dongmin fed him one, then ate some himself.

Myungjun hummed happily and did another little dance in his chair, then resumed dancing along to the song.

Their little study party was interrupted by a surprised cry from the other side of the room.

Dongmin didn’t even think, slid to his feet and shifted in front of Myungjun, ready to protect him from —

A pretty girl who’d dropped her textbooks and was reaching for a boy who was clutching a stack of textbooks to his chest.

“Yellow,” the girl said. “Your shirt is  _ yellow.” _

All around them, the other students burst into applause, and there were dreamy sighs, mostly from the girls watching the scene unfold.

The boy swallowed hard, and then he reached out, curled his hand through the girl’s. “My name is Yoon Sanha. What’s your name?”

“Look,” Myungjun said, his voice deceptively light. “Another happy soulmate couple.”

Dongmin swallowed hard. “Yes. Another happy couple.”

Myungjun clapped slowly, loudly. Then he closed his textbook and notebook and shoved both of them into his backpack. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go find Jinwoo and Minhyuk and get some drinks.”

*

Jinwoo had met his soulmate Nayoung back when they were still in high school. Even though schools had strict rules about no dating, the soulmate bond couldn’t be denied. However, Jinwoo was a patient and responsible person, had been class president for a reason, so when Myungjun called him up and invited him out to a club for drinks and dancing, he said yes, and he meant it; Nayoung wouldn’t mind.

She and Jinwoo were soulmates, after all; that bond was unbreakable. Their relationship had withstood three years of high school and two years of Jinwoo’s military service, and now they were in different universities — albeit in the same city — working hard and waiting till they could really start their lives together.

Minhyuk, Jinwoo’s younger cousin, was a dance major. He was passionate about dance, music, and taekwondo, and with how he was always headed off for this dance practice or that training session or this taekwondo tournament or that choreography workshop, it was a wonder that he had any friends at all; chances of him finding his soulmate were slim, because he never had eyes for other people, just for dance and sparring.

Minhyuk didn’t like drinking, but he did like dancing, so he readily agreed to meet Dongmin and Myungjun at a popular dance bar near campus. It was a casual place, so they didn’t have to dress up too much, but Dongmin and Myungjun still swung by their apartment to drop off their book bags and change into nicer outfits before they met their friends.

“Drinks are on me,” Myungjun said, leaning over the bar and flashing his wide, sunny smile at the handsome bartender, a serious-faced man with an eyebrow piercing and a tattoo on the inside of his wrist that was either a smile or a punctuation mark or maybe both.

“Really?” Jinwoo raised his eyebrows, credit card in hand, but Myungjun had already handed his over.

Myungjun was notoriously stingy even though he was the eldest of their friend group.

“Today while we were in the student union, we saw a couple of soulmates find each other,” Dongmin said. “The boy was wearing a yellow shirt.”

“Canary, actually,” Myungjun said. “It was canary.”

“How do you know the names of so many colors already?” Jinwoo asked. “I’ve been seeing colors since first year of high school and I don’t even know those.”

Myungjun tossed his head. “I’m an  _ artiste.” _

Minhyuk ordered a cider. He and the bartender wore the same unimpressed expressions.

“You’re an architecture major,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun was really good at drawing, though.

“I’m sure it’ll happen for you someday,” Jinwoo said gently.

Myungjun shrugged and sipped at his own drink, which was some kind of frothy concoction with a miniature paper umbrella. “I don’t care if it never does. I can already see color. The world is beautiful for me without a soulmate. And besides, I have you fine people, and I don’t have anyone to answer to if I want to go drinking and dancing or to the noraebang.” 

Dongmin wanted to see color. Even if he never had a soulmate, he at least wanted to see color.

Or he’d take the opposite — never see color but have someone to love.

Minhyuk finished his cider and crumpled the empty can in his fist.

“If you drink carbonated drinks too fast you’ll get the hiccups,” Jinwoo scolded.

But Minhyuk executed a beautiful ballet pirouette, lifted his chin, and plunged onto the dancefloor.

“Wow,” Myungjun said. “I’d ask if he was drunk, but I know he’s not drunk.”

“If he could pirouette like that when he was drunk I’d find a way to make bets on him and win lots of money,” Dongmin said, sipping at a glass of wine.

Myungjun stared at him. “You’re evil. Behind that beautiful face, you’re utterly evil, and I love it.” He finished his drink, plucked the umbrella out, and tucked it behind Dongmin’s ear. “There. Pink is a surprisingly good color on you. But you’re so handsome that really any color is a good color on you. Come on. Dance with me. Make me look good.”

Myungjun offered him a hand.

Dongmin handed his drink to Jinwoo, who nodded and carried all the drinks over to a small table, where he’d supervise their drinks and jackets till it was his turn to dance and someone else wanted to rest, and then Dongmin accepted Myungjun’s hand and followed him into the dancefloor.

While Myungjun tended to dance like he was being electrocuted whenever they were partying to a fast song at the noraebang, when he was dancing with a partner he was actually a good dancer, tucked himself into the circle of Dongmin’s arms and moved with him.

Dongmin could keep a beat, but he wasn’t exactly a very good dancer, not like Minhyuk.

Who’d found himself a very handsome dance partner.

This dance bar was friendly to couples of all kinds, so no one cared about two men or two women dancing together, although plenty of people were enjoying the show that Minhyuk and his tall, muscular, pretty-faced companion were putting on. Even though they were strangers, they were moving  _ together, _ sharing energy, pushing and pulling each other with the music, trading the song’s energy back and forth, sweeping hands over each other’s bodies, looking into each other’s eyes. Passion was electric between them.

“Someone get a fire extinguisher,” Myungjun murmured in Dongmin’s ear, amused, when Minhyuk shamelessly shrugged off one shoulder of his jacket and his dance partner swept a hand down Minhyuk’s arm, down his side and down his leg to his knee.

When the song ended, they were entwined, breathing hard, and Dongmin felt like he’d run a race with them.

Around them, people applauded, and Myungjun cheered and shouted,  _ Encore! Encore! _ until Dongmin shoved him, because Myungjun had a very loud voice and was audible even over the loud club music remix.

“What’s your name?” the tall man asked, and his voice was a surprisingly light tenor, for how big he was.

“Why?” Minhyuk asked.

“I can’t just keep calling you  _ cute guy with the indigo jacket,” _ the man said.

Minhyuk looked down at himself, then blinked. “This jacket  _ is _ indigo.” He looked up at the man. “You — your shirt is red.”

_ “Heol,” _ Myungjun said. “You have got to be kidding me.”

The man stared at Minhyuk. “Oh,” he said, as realization dawned.

Minhyuk leaned up and kissed him.

Even for a pair of soulmates finding each other, that was pretty bold.

Jinwoo winced and jumped up from the table, waded through the crowd to yank his cousin off of the stranger.

“Yah, Minhyukie, have some patience,” he said.

Minhyuk was smiling a little dazedly. “Hey. I’m Park Minhyuk.”

“Moon Bin,” the other man said.

Dongmin closed his eyes. “Hyung,” he said to Myungjun. “Let’s go home.”

Myungjun squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

*

Since Jinwoo was distracted with Minhyuk and his new soulmate, there wouldn’t be much more partying going on, so Myungjun closed his tab and retrieved his credit card. Dongmin and Myungjun grabbed their jackets, and on the way home they swung by a convenience store for some more drinks.

As they walked, they passed advertisements for love and soulmates — dating apps to expedite finding your soulmate. Matching color bracelets for soulmate pairs. Mood lamps so soulmates could send each other color messages over long distances.

“Do people do nothing but fall in love in this world?” Dongmin demanded, gesturing to an advertisement showing a couple — determinedly heterosexual even though plenty of soulmate pairs were gay or lesbian — holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes as probably-rainbow fireworks showered around them as they realized their beautiful love-bond. “You and I spend the majority of our lives studying very hard so we can earn useful degrees and have good careers and be productive members of society. Look at Jinwoo and Nayoung. They’re both in university. And I’m sure once Minhyuk gets over the novelty of having a soulmate, he’ll be right back to business as usual, right?”

Myungjun nodded, swinging the bag of drinks so the glass bottles and aluminum cans clinked with an oddly discordant musicality.

“Wake up, stretch out, work out, shower, healthy breakfast, dance technique classes, taekwondo technique classes, healthy lunch, choreography workshop, sparring, healthy dinner, make out with soulmate, cooldown stretches, bed,” Dongmin said.

Myungjun laughed. “That sounds so terrible, but you’re probably right.”

Their landlady was on the front step, wearing a dressing gown and her hair in curlers, cigarette in hand, when they arrived.

They bowed and greeted her, then hurried down to their little basement apartment. They were good tenants, paid their rent on time, mostly kept to themselves, so she didn’t bother them.

At the door, they kicked off their shoes, and then they plopped down on their slightly saggy sofa with their drinks.

“I don’t think being soulmates is all it’s cracked up to be,” Dongmin said. 

Myungjun passed him a bottle of soju.

Dongmin twisted off the cap with an easy flick of his wrists.

Myungjun wasn’t much of a drinker, so he stuck to his beer.

“Oh yeah?” Myungjun eyed him.

“Not that —” Dongmin bit his lip. Then he took a pull of his soju. It burned as it went down. “You can see color, though, and that’s amazing. Describe color to me?”

Between the drink he’d had at the bar and the soju now and all the frustration and jealousy he’d been feeling all day — he was drunk enough to admit it was jealousy — since witnessing one Yoon Sanha meet his soulmate in the student commons, Dongmin was feeling vulnerable and tired and a little cranky.

And a little bold.

Myungjun said, “I’ll do my best. It’s hard, though. It’ll be like trying to speak to you in a language you’ve never heard, or that you don’t understand.”

“Try me,” Dongmin said, and sipped at his soju some more. He snuggled down on the couch closer to Myungjun and smiled drowsily. “You’re an artist  _ and  _ a scientist. That’s what an architect is. Someone who brings art into physical reality. Tell me what the color blue is.”

“Well,” Myungjun said slowly. “You know the sky is blue, and the ocean is blue, and water can be blue. Blue is considered a cold color, or a cool color.”

Dongmin nodded.

“Blue is the color of putting your hands under running water, or swimming in a pool, or standing in the waves as the break on the sand at the beach, or under a wide, wide sky, or stepping into a cold winter morning,” Myungjun said. “Blue is also the color you feel when you’re cold and sad and want to just curl in on yourself and shut out the world. Blue is also elegant, and unapproachable. When you want to be professional and smart, wear a blue shirt or a blue tie.”

Dongmin smiled and snuggled a little closer to Myungjun. “You’re so smart. And — that makes perfect sense. What about red? Red, blue, and yellow are the primary colors, right? All colors come from those three?”

“Only in pigments. In light, all colors come from red, blue, and green,” Myungjun said.

“Right.” Dongmin blinked. “I remember learning that in science class in elementary school. Colors always seemed like magic then. Are they still magical to you, now that you can see them, even though you have no soulmate?”

Myungjun considered.

“Sorry,” Dongmin said. “I don’t mean to be insensitive. Not everything in this life is about soulmates. Or color. But. I can’t see color, and you can, and I am perhaps a little drunk, so, please. Tell me more about color.”

“Yellow is a warm color. Not hot, just warm. It’s the color of sunlight on a pleasant spring day. It’s the color of sweet lemonade, and a nice warm hug from your mother when you’re feeling a little down.”

“And nice warm hugs from you,” Dongmin said. “You give the best hugs.”

“I do,” Myungjun agreed, and held his arms out, and Dongmin snuggled right up against him, tucked himself under Myungjun’s chin even though he was the taller of the two of them by a good margin.

“Yellow is a fluffy blanket on a cold winter’s night, and being close together, like this.”

Dongmin hummed happily. “I like yellow. Yellow seems like a happy color.”

“It is a happy color. Now red, on the other hand. It’s a  _ hot _ color. We say  _ red-hot _ for a reason.”

“Like spicy peppers?” Dongmin asked, peering up at Myungjun.

Myungjun nodded against Dongmin’s hair. “Mmhmm. Red is the color of burning, of passion. But also of danger, and warning. Stop signs are red. Red can also be an angry color. People’s faces turn red when they’re angry.”

“Or when they’re embarrassed, right?”

“Mmmm. That’s more pink. Pink is cute,” Myungjun said. He added, “You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute; you’re cute,” Dongmin protested. “I’m  _ beautiful. _ Well, my mother says I’m ugly, but everyone else says I’m beautiful, and so many people can’t be wrong, can they?”

Myungjun laughed. “How drunk are you?”

“So drunk,” Dongmin admitted. He peered up at Myungjun again, admiring the curve of his wide smile, his high cheekbones, his pretty jawline. “I know I’m not really that handsome, not compared to you. What color are your lips? I bet they’re yellow.”

Myungjun spluttered. “People don’t have yellow lips. Why would you think I have yellow lips?”

“Because when you smile, your smile is like sunshine.”

“Well, that is...not terrible logic from someone who can’t see color, except we all also took the same science classes and I know you memorized what the basic colors of all human body parts are,” Myungjun said.

“I want to believe that your smile is yellow,” Dongmin said. “Because your smile is sunshine.” He tilted his head. “What color is my smile?”

“Ah, Dongmin is much more complicated. Some days your smile is icy blue, and other days sweet cherry-blossom pink, and some days brittle gray, and other days angry red, and some days —” Myungjun cut himself off.

“Some days what?”

“Nothing. It’s probably just my imagination.”

“What?” Dongmin pressed.

Myungjun shook his head.

Dongmin eyed Myungjun, then leaned in and bit his shoulder.

Myungjun yelped. “What the hell was that for?”

“Tell me.”

“Or what? You’ll bite me again?”

“Why not? You’ve always looked very tasty.” Dongmin grinned at him.

“How drunk  _ are _ you?” Myungjun asked.

“Why?”

“Because you sound like you’re hitting on me, and I’m pretty sure you’d never hit on me while you were sober.” Myungjun edged away from Dongmin, rubbing his shoulder.

Dongmin crawled closer to him. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re incredibly handsome. You’re an architect, a scientist with the soul of an artist, and you’re more stunningly brilliant than anyone gives you credit for, and I  _ love you, _ and to hell with anyone who says my love is  _ less than _ just because I don’t love  _ in color.” _

“You’re  _ really _ drunk,” Myungjun said. “You don’t  _ love _ me.”

His gaze was fever-bright, fracturing, and he edged further away from Dongmin.

Dongmin advanced on him. “I just told you why I love you. Why would my being drunk negate my love for you? Maybe my being drunk just made it easier to admit my feelings, but so what?”

“So when you’re sober you’ll either forget you confessed or you’ll take it all back or say it was a mistake and we should just pretend it never happened —”

Dongmin leaned in and sank his teeth into the side of Myungjun’s neck, a sharp nip, and Myungjun yelped.

“Why do you keep biting me?”

“So you’ll stop saying stupid things.”

“Before you bit me so I’d  _ say _ things.”

“Also so I could enjoy how you taste,” Dongmin admitted.

Myungjun stared up at him, chest heaving. “If we do this and tomorrow you regret it, you’ll ruin our friendship forever.”

“How could I ever regret you?” Dongmin asked. “You’re Kim Myungjun. You’ve been my best friend since the first day we met. We’ve been roommates and study partners. You let me feed you pretzels and you switch textbooks with me. You go dancing with me even though I’m a terrible dancer, and you sing for me, and you’re so damn beautiful, but also red-fucking-hot, and I can’t hold back anymore. I love you, and I  _ want _ you. Can I have you? I want you so damn bad. I promise I’ll make it so good. I’ll do you so hard, I’ll make you scream —”

Myungjun reached up, placed a finger over Dongmin’s lips. “Obviously you’re quite inebriated. The Lee Dongmin I know is very sweet and polite and would never, ever confess to someone he likes that way.”

Dongmin blinked rapidly. This was true, but he was at least a little inebriated, and this wasn’t a formal or academic or professional setting, and he was with Myungjun, who drove him a little wild sometimes. So.

He wrapped his lips around Myungjun’s finger and sucked on it, swirled his tongue around it for good measure.

Myungjun’s mouth fell open. “You — where did you learn how to do that?”

Dongmin winked and pulled off with a wet pop. “I could do that somewhere else if you like.”

“Wow. You are so drunk, but…” Myungjun ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You really want to do this? You and me? Tonight?”

“I want to do  _ you _ tonight,” Dongmin said. He reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Myungjun said, “Are you sure? You’ve drunk a lot.”

“Not so much that I can’t make this decision,” Dongmin said. “We’re both adults here. I won’t regret this in the morning. Will you?”

“I hope not,” Myungjun said. He slid off the couch and offered Dongmin a hand. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“To the bedroom.”

*

Dongmin had been in Myungjun’s bedroom plenty of times. They’d agreed, since Myungjun was older, that he could have the bigger bedroom (it wasn’t bigger by much) and the bigger bed.

This was the first time Dongmin had ever been on Myungjun’s bed like this, sitting up against the headboard, watching as Myungjun undressed. Myungjun wasn’t putting on a show, but Dongmin was utterly entranced, watching Myungjun’s pretty little hands as he unfastened buttons and unbuckled his belt. Myungjun’s hands were small, pale, delicate, an artist’s hands. Dongmin had grown up playing various musical instruments — piano, flute, violin, guitar — and while he had long fingers, his hands were nowhere as pretty as Myungjun’s. Everything about Myungjun was so delicate and pretty. Dongmin wanted to wrap Myungjun up and set him on a shelf and keep him. He wanted to wrap Myungjun up in his arms and hold him forever.

He wanted to lay Myungjun down on the bed and explore every inch of his smooth, pale, perfect skin.

Only Myungjun said, “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way.”

Dongmin nodded.

Myungjun, bare and beautiful, reached out, pressed a hand against Dongmin’s chest. “You stay here, and you don’t move unless I tell you.”

Dongmin nodded, sat back against the headboard obediently. His heart was pounding, and Myungjun’s hand on him, even through his clothes, was like a branding iron.

Myungjun fastened his belt to one of the bedposts. Then he reached out and unbuckled Dongmin’s belt. Dongmin swallowed hard and did his best to keep his hips very still.

Myungjun peered up at Dongmin through his lashes. “You like that?” he asked, his sweet voice husky with desire. “You want me to touch you?”

Myungjun nude was so beautiful, and Dongmin wanted to touch him, to be touched, but he said, “Only if you want to.”

“Oh, I do, but not yet.” Myungjun removed Dongmin’s belt and fastened it to the other bedpost.

Dongmin’s eyes went wide. “Are you going to tie me up?”

“Do you want me to?” Myungjun asked.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Dongmin admitted, but the way Myungjun’s eyes gleamed with desire made Dongmin’s heart thump unsteadily.

Myungjun laughed softly. “Maybe later.” He reached up, finished unbuttoning Dongmin’s shirt. He pushed it off of Dongmin’s shoulders, and then he leaned in — and sank his teeth into the side of Dongmin’s neck.

Dongmin yelped in surprise, but then Myungjun soothed the wound with his lips and tongue, and Dongmin’s pulse spiked. Myungjun crowded closer, nibbling on Dongmin’s throat and jaw, all the while divesting Dongmin of his shirt, and then Myungjun was unfastening Dongmin’s trousers, and Dongmin was panting and gasping, and Myungjun swallowed his moans in a messy open-mouthed kiss.

Their first kiss.

“Are you ready?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin wrapped his arms around Myungjun and pulled him in for another kiss, basking in the sensation of skin on skin, Myungjun’s warmth and the flutter of his pulse under Dongmin’s hands when they curled around his wrists, and this kiss must have been yellow and then pink and then red and then  _ red,  _ but then it was all Myungjun-and-Dongmin and Dongmin was so turned on and he couldn’t help rubbing his hips against Myungjun as he licked his way into Myungjun’s mouth, and then —

Myungjun put a hand on his chest and pulled back.

“We’re doing this my way. From here on out, you don’t move unless I tell you, remember? You hold onto these straps, and you don’t let go.” Myungjun nodded to the two belts tied to the bed posts.

Dongmin nodded and sat back, heart racing, sparks dancing in the corners of his vision.

Myungjun sat back, and he reached out, scooped up a vial of oil, unstoppered it, and dipped his fingers inside. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Dongmin asked.

“You’re going to have to be patient a bit,” Myungjun said. “I’ve never done this before, so we’ll have to be very careful.”

Dongmin nodded. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ve done research though,” Myungjun said. “And maybe I’ve practiced a bit, while thinking of you, so. You can imagine what it’ll be like for you. Inside of me.”

Dongmin blinked. “What?”

Myungjun reached down and curled a hand around his own cock and stroked himself. He let out a sigh and his eyes slid shut, and his head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat. Then he parted his thighs and reached between them with his other hand and his oil-covered fingers and —

_ Oh. _

Myungjun let out a soft groan as he slid the first finger in. “You know there’s that sweet spot inside, right? And when you get just the right angle you can slide over it again and again with every thrust and —”

Dongmin was instantly, almost painfully hard, watching Myungjun stroke that finger in and out, all the while thrusting into his own fist.

A flush spread across Myungjun’s chest, up his throat and down to his tight nipples, and Dongmin’s grip on the two belts was white-knuckled, and he was rolling his hips desperately, but he couldn’t get any friction.

He bit his lip so he didn’t make a sound, could only watch as Myungjun opened himself up further on two, then three fingers, still stroking himself with his other hand. Myungjun was beautiful, eyes closed, head tipped back, lost in his own world of self-pleasure.

But then he opened his eyes and drew his hands away, and he looked right at Dongmin.

“Are you ready?”

Dongmin nodded frantically.

Myungjun crawled up the bed toward him. “Are you sure?”

Dongmin nodded again. “Myungjun, please —”

“You said you were going to do me hard.”

Myungjun straddled Dongmin’s thighs.

Dongmin’s cock was thick and dark, the tip shiny and wet and slick.

Myungjun curled his hand around the back of Dongmin’s neck and pressed their foreheads together, looked right into Dongmin’s eyes. “You said you were going to make me scream.”

Dongmin nodded again.

Myungjun leaned in and caught Dongmin’s mouth in a searing kiss.

That kiss was red and yellow and every color in between.

Myungjun curled his other hand around Dongmin’s cock.

Myungjun said, “Make me scream.” And then he slid down onto Dongmin’s cock in a single, smooth thrust.

Dongmin was the one who screamed.

Myungjun leaned in again, closed his mouth against Dongmin’s and swallowed his cries in a series of filthy wet kisses, flexing his thighs and riding Dongmin’s cock.

Dongmin was lost in a mindless haze of pleasure — the hot tightness of Myungjun’s body, their mouths meeting over and over again, the exquisite press of flesh, the way he could  _ feel _ Myungjun’s heartbeat when their chests were pressed together. Dongmin met Myungjun thrust for thrust, searching for that sweet spot, feeling Myungjun’s cock jump whenever he stroked over it. He wanted Myungjun to feel the same pleasure he was feeling, the lightning building in his veins.

He licked along Myungjun’s throat, tasting the salt of their exertion.

He bit down on the juncture of Myungjun’s throat and shoulder, heard Myungjun moan at the pleasure-pain.

And he couldn’t help it — he ducked his head and swirled his tongue around one of Myungjun’s nipples, and Myungjun shouted.

Myungjun went wild, so Dongmin did it again, and he thrust harder, but Myungjun took over, fisting a hand in Dongmin’s hair, clutching Dongmin to him and riding him harder and faster while Dongmin licked and sucked and bit, and everything spiraled upward in a crescendo until the climax hit, and Dongmin’s world went blinding white, and then he came, and Myungjun came, and they both collapsed to the bed, panting and sticky and sated.

When they finally caught their breath, several rounds of poking and  _ not it _ ensued until Dongmin wobbled to his feet and found a couple of washcloths so they could clean up, and then they retreated under the covers together.

“Will we regret this tomorrow?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin gathered Myungjun in his arms and held him tightly. “No,” he said. “Because I love you.”

He realized, too late, that Myungjun had never actually said he loved Dongmin back.

Only Myungjun said, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, you know.”

“I know now,” Dongmin said quietly.

Together, they slid into dreams.

*

The next morning, when Dongmin woke, he only felt mildly hungover. He needed to go get some water and aspirin, because his head hurt, but he had Myungjun in his arms, Myungjun who he’d loved for a long time, only he hadn’t recognized the love for what it was because he’d never believed he could love unless he could see color, and he wanted to enjoy just being like this, if only for a few moments longer.

Eventually, however, nature called, so Dongmin did his best to wriggle away from Myungjun without stirring him.

He failed.

Myungjun opened his eyes.

Dongmin froze.

“Where are you going?”

“Ah, well —”

Myungjun’s brow furrowed. “Why do you look so guilty?”

“Well, I —”

“Do you regret last night? Did you not mean what you said?”

“No, it’s just that —”

“But you  _ do _ look guilty. I’m your best friend. Or I  _ was _ your best friend. I know all your facial expressions, and that’s definitely your guilty expression.” Myungjun withdrew from Dongmin’s embrace, freeing him.

“Well, I probably do look guilty, but that’s because I have to go pee,” Dongmin said, “and it’s not particularly romantic.”

“Oh.”

“I was hoping to go to the bathroom and do my business and maybe brush my teeth and get back before you woke up and not have morning breath for a good morning kiss,” Dongmin admitted.

“Oh.” Myungjun blinked.

Dongmin said, “I don’t regret a thing.” He reached out, brushed a lock of hair out of Myungjun’s eyes. His hair was so soft. “I love you. I’m glad I confessed to you. Last night was amazing. I’d do it all over again if given a second chance.”

“Really?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin nodded and leaned in again, kissed him softly. “We don’t need to be soulmates to be in love. We can love each other because we choose to, because we see in each other something worthy of love. We don’t need colors or a mythical bond. We just need  _ us.” _

Myungjun kissed him back, slow and sweet, smiling against Dongmin’s lips, and Dongmin couldn’t help but smile back. The kiss was warm and gentle, like sunlight. Myungjun’s kisses were definitely yellow.

“I was thinking,” Dongmin said, “after I got back, we should do last night all over again. Although maybe we could experiment a bit. For science. You should do me, hm? Unless that’s not your style?” He nosed along Myungjun’s throat, admiring the love bruises there.

“If it’s for science, I’m sure I can rouse myself for the cause,” Myungjun said, a little breathless.

Dongmin smiled against his skin. “I’m excited.”

Myungjun chuckled, the sound heated and velvety. “I’m sure you are. Go. Do what you must. And then come back here and let’s experiment. For science. And for love.”

Dongmin nodded and scrambled out of the bed. “And after, we should clean up and go get a nice meal to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Our Day One!”

“Isn’t it Day Two?”

“We didn’t get home till after midnight,” Dongmin called over his shoulder.

“Day One it is.”

*

While a Twenty-Two Day celebration might have been a bit juvenile for a couple their age, Dongmin didn’t care. He was going all out, because he wanted to, and he could. He worked hard at his part-time job as a TA in the chemistry lab, and where he rarely went out and spent his money, he had a decent amount saved up, so he could splurge once in a while.

So he was going to splurge.

At the jewelry shop, he asked for a pair of bracelets.

“What kind of stones would you like?” the sales clerk asked.

She was about Dongmin’s age, probably a university student herself, cut a fine figure in her uniform, would probably try to upsell him.

“A black opal and a white opal,” Dongmin said, pointing to a pair of slender silver cuffs.

“But what color did you and your soulmate see when you first met?” the girl asked, looking puzzled.

Dongmin caught her gaze and held it. “Who said my boyfriend and I were soulmates?”

The girl froze, hand halfway into the jewelry cabinet. “Oh. But — these matching bracelets —”

“Are matching bracelets. Are the couples who wear them required to be soulmates?” Dongmin asked.

“N-no,” the girl said.

“Well then, I’d like to purchase that pair, please,” Dongmin said.

The girl continued fetching them from the cabinet. Dongmin tried one of them on, considered how it looked, tried to imagine how the other one would look on Myungjun. The girl fidgeted while he inspected them.

Finally she burst out with, “Can you see color yet?”

“No,” he said.

“But you’re wearing a blue tie.”

“My boyfriend picked it out for me.”

“Your boyfriend can see color? But — his soulmate —”

“Not everyone who can see color has a soulmate,” Dongmin said.

The girl’s mouth fell open.

Dongmin said, “I’ll be paying with cash.”

The girl looked visibly spooked while she rang him up, and her hands shook as she counted out his change. Then she boxed up the bracelets and gift-wrapped them neatly — as neatly as she could, with her hands still shaking — and Dongmin thanked her and swept out of the jewelry store.

He headed for a florist shop after that, to pick up a bouquet. He planned on surprising Myungjun at the coffee shop where he worked.

“What kind of flowers do you want?” the florist asked. She was also a university student about Dongmin’s age.

A moment later, Minhyuk’s soulmate Bin tapped her shoulder.

“Eunbi, I’ll handle this.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she protested.

“He’s a friend of a friend,” Bin said.

“Oh, all right.” She stepped aside, went to help another customer.

“Flowers for Myungjun?” Bin asked.

Dongmin nodded.

“Do you know what colors he likes?” Bin reached below the counter and scooped up a vase, set it on the workbench.

“Bright colors,” Dongmin said. “Lots of sunflowers. Yellows and pinks, I think.”

Bin nodded and set a piece of wrapping paper on the table. He reached into the cooler and grabbed some sunflowers and what looked like giant daisies as well. 

“The daisies are pink,” he explained, though Dongmin had always thought daisies were white.

While Bin assembled the bouquet, Dongmin checked messages and emails on his phone. He texted Minhyuk and Jinwoo, who’d staked out the café where Myungjun worked, ensured he had shown up for his shift on time.

“Anything you want on the card?” Bin asked.

“I’ll write it myself,” Dongmin said, because Bin’s handwriting was notoriously bad.

“And here I was going to give you an employee discount,” Bin said, offended.

“And here I was going to give you a nice tip.” Dongmin handed the pen back, paid, scooped up the vase bursting with flowers, and headed for the door.

“Good luck!” Bin called after him.

“Thank you!”

Dongmin had, after all, helped Minhyuk plan his Twenty-Two Day celebration with Bin.

He would, out of loyalty to Myungjun, buy a small cake from the café where he worked for part of the celebration, but he had to duck into a convenience store to buy candles and a lighter. People stared as he marched down the sidewalk with the large bouquet, but he didn’t care.

When he arrived at the café, it wasn’t too busy, but Myungjun was serving a customer. Jinwoo and Minhyuk were sitting at a corner table with a couple of drinks that were probably long finished. Dongmin hurried over to them, doing his best to keep his purchases hidden. Dongmin set the bouquet and jewelry bag on the fourth chair, out of sight of the counter. 

“How’s his mood?” he asked. 

“This is from a fancy jewelry shop,” Minhyuk said, peering at the bag. “Myungjun’s hyung. Shouldn’t he be spoiling you?”

“Bold of you to assume our relationship conforms to stereotypes,” Dongmin said. He slid some cash across the table to Jinwoo. “He loves chocolate cake.”

Jinwoo nodded. “He’s in a pretty good mood.”

Dongmin smiled. “Thank you.”

Jinwoo rose up from the table and headed over to the counter to purchase a small chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate-dipped strawberries on top. He knew what Myungjun liked, had been friends with him longer than Dongmin had.

“You went to the flower shop where Bin works.” Minhyuk smiled at the bouquet. Then he peered at the card. “This isn’t Bin’s handwriting.”

“I wanted Myungjun to be able to read the card.”

“Fair enough,” Minhyuk said, because he loved his soulmate but wasn’t blind to the man’s faults.

Dongmin said, “Do you think Myungjun will like the colors?”

While Minhyuk wasn’t the best at colors, he could still  _ see _ colors.

Minhyuk tilted his head, considered the bouquet. “I think he will.” And then he smiled. When he smiled, his entire face transformed from severe and serious to sweet and dimpled. The transformation was stark.

Jinwoo returned with the cake, handed Dongmin the change. Dongmin sorted the money into his wallet.

“Here, cover the cake so he doesn’t see it, please.” Dongmin gestured for Jinwoo to angle himself between their table and the counter while he put the candles on the cake.

“You got  _ twenty-two _ candles?” Jinwoo asked, incredulous.

“We just got two candles,” Minhyuk said. “You know, just two number two candles.”

“I wanted to do this right,” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk’s eyes went wide. “He spotted you. He’s coming over.”

“Dongminnie, you’re here! I’m on my break. You didn’t say you were coming by. Do you want me to bring you a drink, or —?” Myungjun approached, looking adorable in his little uniform with his nametag with the little sunshine sticker in the corner of it. His eyes went wide when he saw the cake.

Jinwoo, because he was helpful, put the vase with the bouquet and the gift bag up on the table.

Dongmin rose and offered his hand. “Kim Myungjun, it’s been twenty-two days since I professed my love, and I wanted to mark the occasion, so I’m here, with a token of my affection.”

“A token of your affection? Dongminnie, you’re so formal and serious.” Myungjun laughed, the sound musical and sweet. He accepted Dongmin’s hand and reeled him in, kissed him on the cheek. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I did,” Dongmin said, “because I love you.”

But Myungjun had kissed him, and Dongmin knew he was blushing.

Jinwoo and Minhyuk were very good friends and had lit the candles on the cake.

“Well, this is a very pleasant surprise for my break.” Myungjun clapped his hands, delighted.

Dongmin pulled Myungjun’s chair out for him, and Myungjun sat. 

“I saw Jinwoo buying a cake and wondered what the occasion was. This cake is delicious.” He smiled up at Dongmin, and Dongmin felt his heart flutter. “We should make a wish together.”

Dongmin nodded. He nudged the gift bag toward Myungjun. “You can open it now.”

“I hope you didn’t spend too much.”

“No amount is too much for you,” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk made a face.

Jinwoo said, “As if you’ve never said something like that to Binnie.”

Myungjun pawed aside the tissue paper and reached inside, found the large velvet box. He opened it carefully.

“Dongminnie, they’re beautiful. Which is mine and which is yours?”

“They’re black and white,” Minhyuk said. “Aren’t those supposed to be the colors you saw when you first met?”

Jinwoo smacked him on the arm.

“Right,” Minhyuk said.

Dongmin smiled at Myungjun. “You can pick which one you want. They’re adjustable, so you can have either.”

“White,” Myungjun said, “because white is all colors combined together.”

Dongmin slid the cuff onto his wrist. “Black is the absence of color. Well, only with light. With pigments, black is just like white, all colors combined.”

Myungjun smiled. “You remembered.”

“I listen when you talk.” Dongmin cast Minhyuk a look. “Unlike some people.”

Minhyuk rolled his eyes. “Blow out the candles and make a wish. Before I get a toothache just watching you two be terribly romantic. Actual soulmates aren’t as cute as you two are, you know that?”

“Actual soulmates don’t necessarily love each other more than we do,” Myungjun said. “I know my Dongminnie loves me more than all the colors combined.”

He leaned in and nuzzled Dongmin, kissed him on the cheek.

“But Minhyuk’s right. Let’s make a wish! That cake is delicious. You deserve to have a taste before my break ends.”

Myungjun put the other bracelet on Dongmin’s wrist, and then he twined his hand with Dongmin’s, and they leaned in to the cake, inhaled, closed their eyes.

_ I wish for us to love and be happy forever, _ Dongmin thought.

He opened his eyes, grinned at Myungjun, and they blew out the candles.

Jinwoo went to the counter to ask for a knife to cut the cake.

Myungjun’s coworkers were very sweet and clapped and cheered for him, gave Jinwoo plates and forks as well, covered for Myungjun so he could have a bit of a longer break.

Of course, the cake was too big for just two people, so Minhyuk and Jinwoo got to enjoy the cake as well.

Jinwoo was a skilled photographer, and he took plenty of pictures of Myungjun and Dongmin to commemorate the occasion, with their bracelets on display, with the cake, and with the lovely flowers, which Myungun happily posted to his SNS accounts (Dongmin kept none).

But Myungjun’s break couldn’t last forever, so after one last kiss, Myungjun headed back to work, taking his flowers with him.

Dongmin packed up the remains of the cake and the gift bag.

“Thank you,” he said to Jinwoo and Minhyuk.

“I’m really happy for the two of you,” Jinwoo said sincerely.

Minhyuk thought it was weird that the two of them were dating but weren’t soulmates, but he just shrugged, since he never turned down free cake, and also Myungjun was one of his best friends, and he was glad Myungjun was happy.

“When your 100-day celebration comes around, I’ll help,” Dongmin told Minhyuk, who nodded.

Then Dongmin swept out of the café, already planning his own 100-day celebration. Myungjun deserved only the best.

*

“So for today’s lab, we’ll be trying to isolate a specific gene. It’s fairly rare, so chances of any of you having it are slim, but we also have a sample gene to compare it against just so you have the experience of extracting DNA from a live specimen,” Professor Chae said.

Dongmin’s partner, Changkyun, was hardworking and attentive, and Dongmin knew he was lucky to have been assigned to the other man. Where the other students saw Changkyun’s pierced eyebrow and tattoos as signs of rebellion and laziness, Dongmin had seen past them and noticed that Changkyun took detailed notes. Changkyun didn’t ask questions in class because he didn’t have to; he understood the material easily.

“Open up,” Chankgyun said, waving the cotton swab.

“I thought you were supposed to say,  _ say ah, _ like at the doctor’s office,” Dongmin said.

Changkyun arched that pierced eyebrow. “Do I look like a doctor?”

“One day you will be, though, won’t you? Doctor Im.”

Changkyun said, “So you’ve got me figured out.”

Dongmin said, “Ah.”

Changkyun was gentle as he swiped the inside of Dongmin’s mouth for the sample, though, which Dongmin appreciated. Dongmin took a sample from Changkyun, and then they worked to prep the samples for DNA extraction.

The process was fairly complex — they had to separate the white blood cells and epithelial cells from the bacteria and all the other nonsense in the saliva, and then they had to break the cells open to get the DNA out and separate it from all the other cell components (which mostly meant sending the broken cells through the centrifuge), and once that was done they could collect their DNA samples and subject them to the PCR test to see if any of them had the mysterious gene sequence.

Dongmin and Changkyun worked well as a team, helping each other prep samples, sharing supplies, handing each other the slides and pipettes and then the solutions needed to rinse the saliva samples to separate the white blood cells and epithelials from the bacteria.

Once the samples were in the centrifuge, Professor Chae walked them through the Polymerase Chain Reaction, the theory behind it and the deeper mechanisms of the polymerase enzyme.

“And today, since it’s almost Valentine’s Day, I thought we would look at this gene, which causes Achromatopsia, also known as Monochromacy,” Professor Chae said.

Everyone puzzled over the English words. Even though Dongmin had done well in English, he didn’t recognize them.

“Does anyone know what this condition is?” Professor Chae asked.

Changkyun raised his hand.

Right. Changkyun had lived in America for a few years as a child.

“Total colorblindness,” he said.

“Everyone’s colorblind till they find their soulmate,” someone said.

Changkyun said, “Achromatopsia is a disorder which causes the cones in the eyes to be completely non-functional, which interferes with phototransduction and results in a total loss of color vision, even after finding one’s soulmate.”

“Wait, so someone could meet their soulmate and not even know it?” a boy asked.

Changkyun nodded.

“How awful,” a girl said.

Changkyun snorted. “Why? You need to be able to see colors to love? Did you not love your parents while you were a child but unable to see color?”

The girl spluttered. “Well — I —”

“Changkyun-ssi is correct,” Professor Chae said. “This very rare mutation only afflicts one in thirty-three thousand people, so chances are none of you have it. But we do have a sample of a known bearer of the mutation to compare against, just so you can see.”

“That person must be very lonely,” one of the other students murmured.

“What about their soulmate?” someone else asked. “Able to see color but also alone.”

“At least they can see color,” another student muttered.

Changkyun rolled his eyes. “There’s more to love and relationships than soulmates. Also, it’s entirely possible that someone here is colorblind and can hear everything you’re saying and you’re all being incredibly insensitive.”

“Like who?” someone asked. 

“Who knows?” Changkyun said. “Maybe a friend of Professor Chae’s? He’s the one who got the sample, after all.”

The boy ducked his head.

Dongmin’s head spun. What if he was colorblind? What if he never met his soulmate? Where Myungjun could see color, he must have met his soulmate, even if only briefly, perhaps on a busy street corner where they’d passed each other in a crowd and seen each other’s faces but were unable to identify each other. Dongmin knew Myungjun had always worried that Dongmin would meet his soulmate and leave him, but if Dongmin was colorblind, Myungjun had nothing to worry about; Dongmin could meet his soulmate and never even know it.

When the timer on the centrifuge sounded, Changkyun went to get the samples, so Dongmin went to get the gel trays for the PCR test.

Dongmin felt terrible for privately hoping Myungjun’s real soulmate was lost in anonymity forever, for hoping his own soulmate was lost the same way, but if he and Myungjun could find love without being soulmates, their soulmates could too.

Changkyun returned with the samples, and he and Dongmin carefully measured out the polymerase enzyme and the control sample DNA and their own DNA and set the gel trays aside for the test to run.

“You know what could happen, though,” Changkyun said. “Instead of a colorblind person just being lonely and someone who can see color also just being lonely.”

“What?” Dongmin asked.

“Maybe someone two people meet, and one of them starts seeing color and the other doesn’t, and they don’t realize they’re soulmates, and they become friends, and then they fall in love anyway, not because it’s fate but because they genuinely are about each other.” Changkyun flipped his pen across the back of his thumbnail expertly. “I mean, if two people meet each other, and the one person starts seeing color when they meet, that’s probably a sign that they’re soulmates even if the other person doesn’t start seeing color, especially if that other person is colorblind.”

“But in a world where everyone is colorblind till they meet their soulmate, how would they know they were genetically colorblind? Unless we just tested everyone at birth,” Dongmin said. “It’s such a rare condition.”

Changkyun shrugged. “I guess if I met someone and they started seeing color but I didn’t see color, I’d think it was weird, you know? So I’d check for some kind of medical disorder.”

“Oh. So you don’t see color yet?” Dongmin asked.

Changkyun shook his head. “You?”

“No.”

Changkyun cocked his head. “You have a boyfriend, though.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see color.”

Changkyun shrugged. “There’s no rule that the colorblind can’t date.”

“Myungjun can see color, though.”

“Oh. Is he much older?”  _ Did something happen to his soulmate? _ was the unspoken question. 

“No, he’s only a few years older than me, already did his service.” Dongmin said, “He only started seeing color the first day we met.”

Changkyun raised his eyebrows. He and Dongmin both peered at Dongmin’s gel tray.

Changkyun said, “You’re genetically colorblind.”

Dongmin said, “I am.”

“Are you and your boyfriend soulmates?”

Dongmin said, “We’ll never know.”

*

After the lab that day, Dongmin headed back to the basement apartment he shared with Myungjun, who’d already finished his shift at the café.

“How was your day?” Myungjun wrapped his arms around Dongmin’s waist and kissed him softly on the mouth.

“It was long. Labs are always long and a little tedious.”

“I’m so glad I’m an architecture major. That first chemistry class we had together was enough for me.” Myungjun nuzzled under Dongmin’s chin like an affectionate puppy, and Dongmin couldn’t help but smile and kiss him again.

“Hey,” Dongmin said. “If you and I could be soulmates, would you want to be?”

“Why?”

“I’m just wondering. If there was a way for us to claim the status of soulmates, would you want to?”

Myungjun pulled back. “What brought this up?”

“Answer me first.” Dongmin searched Myungjun’s gaze.

“I honestly wouldn’t care. I love you because I choose to. We’ve been friends since the day we first met. You made me smile because you were kind to me even though I was awkward and shy and also a little silly.” Myungjun shrugged. “You love me because I’m beautiful and brilliant. How does being soulmates make that any better?”

“It doesn’t,” Dongmin said. “You’re right.”

“Now tell me. What brought this up? You’ve never been insecure about us not being soulmates before,” Myungjun said.

“It’s just that — today in lab we did some DNA sequencing. And today we isolated a gene for colorblindness.”

Myungjun eyed him. “Everyone is colorblind till they meet their soulmates.”

“But some people are genetically colorblind even after they meet their soulmates,” Dongmin said. “People like me. I may never recognize my soulmate. Or I’ve already met my soulmate and just not known it.”

“Oh?”

Dongmin swallowed hard. “You started seeing color the first day we met. I will never see color, not even if I meet my soulmate.”

Myungjun’s eyes went wide.  _ “Oh.” _

“So either we  _ are _ soulmates, or I’ll never recognize my soulmate and you’re stuck with me forever,” Dongmin said. “I really have no way of knowing which it is. So whichever you want to believe, you choose.”

Myungjun bit his lip. Then he said, “Blue. The first color I noticed the day we met was blue. The shirt you were wearing had blue and white stripes. But you chose to love me not because of some mystical bond. You chose to love me for  _ me,  _ and nothing will ever diminish that.”

Dongmin nodded, and he said, “I will always love you for you.” He drew Myungjun into a kiss.

Myungjun kissed him back, warm and sweet.

Dongmin said, “I still think your kisses taste like yellow.”

Myungjun laughed and shoved him lightly. “That’s how I know you’re still colorblind.”

“Your love is all the colors,” Dongmin said, and kissed him again. As long as he had Myungjun, his world was all the colors, and it was brighter than any rainbow, and he was loved beyond hues.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Cha Eunwoo song


End file.
